


you take up space

by pr1nc3ssp34ch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Confusion, Denial, Derek Left and Came Back and Was Adorable About It, In Abstract I guess???, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Sexual Tension, Surprise feelings, is that an official trope yet pls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 11:03:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pr1nc3ssp34ch/pseuds/pr1nc3ssp34ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"characterdevelopmentwrites: i want a fic in which stiles has no feelings for derek like hasn’t even thought of it as a possibility, because he’s just, well, derek, he’s derek and tbch stiles doesn’t spend much time thinking about him at all since people are fucking dying, y’know, but then someone brings it up, like makes some passing remark that throws stiles and derek into a romantic/sexual light and then stiles cant sTOP thinking about, he goes to bed at night and dreams that derek is sleeping next to him and jerks off to the image of derek wanting him, and by week number three of this new found whatever you want to call it, stiles is a fucking mess and the next time he sees derek in person, derek shoots him a look during a group conversation and stiles meeps"</p><p>[rolls around]</p>
            </blockquote>





	you take up space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CharacterDevelopment](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharacterDevelopment/gifts).



> tiny ficlet for shannon look at us kids look at us now

Stiles fucking  _hates_ Cora.

 

 

Alright, maybe that’s a lie. He likes Cora - they’re friends, bros, even (yes, girls can be bros, don’t be weird about it). But she’s annoyingly perceptive and loves to torture him even more than Derek ever did. Which is saying something, though recently the man seems to have given up the habit. 

 

 

Stiles hadn’t really thought about Derek, after he and Cora left town. He’d been a distant sort of memory in the back of his mind - one less problem to worry about. Derek… he left on good terms, and Stiles cared enough to want him alive, but beyond that, the only feeling he really had left was indifference. 

 

 

Cora invited him over when they got back. Apparently they’d been in town for a few weeks, making the loft livable again, but she didn’t bother apologizing for not letting him know. Stiles got that - Cora wasn’t really that kind of friend. Things were tense between… well, almost everyone else and the Hales, especially considering how weird Peter had been in their absence, but Stiles liked to think of himself as Switzerland on that front. So he went over.

 

 

It was nice, actually, seeing Cora again. He missed the no-nonsense talks without all the added baggage that came from talking to Isaac or Allison, who were equally frank. Derek wasn’t so bad either, hovering and making a few scathing remarks. It was sort of… fun, really. More fun than it would’ve been with any of the others around.

 

 

But as he was walking out the door, Cora just - she  _had_ to make that remark. One tiny little sentence that  _wont get out of Stiles’ head._

 

 

"He missed you more than you think, Stilinski."

 

 

What the hell is that? What is that supposed to  _mean?_ It’s innocent on the surface, but nothing Cora says is innocent - and the only time she isn’t straightforward she’s being totally and absolutely cryptic. What she is, is a sadist. Who says things that can’t be unsaid.

 

 

Because see, Stiles would like to think it’s innocent. But since it came from  _Cora,_ of course he was going to think it through. She knew that. That’s why  she’s a triple douchebag. He’s been sitting in his room staring at the ceiling for like, four hours, and only coming to one conclusion.

 

 

Derek  _likes_ you. Like, sexually, or romantically, or whatever. Is what she meant. Which is ridiculous, except it’s totally not, at  _all._ Like, how many times did the dude throw him into walls? That one time when he stayed at the house was really close. To his face. And how many times have they been stuck together, how many times have they  _depended_ on each other, when that’s not an easy thing for Derek to do?

 

 

So yeah, Stiles, you know, might get it. But feelings. They suck. They suck hard. On the other hand,  _sex_ is something he’s totally familiar with. So he focuses on that instead. 

 

 

Not that he’s trying to focus on it at all. But after Cora’s little  _announcement,_ he can’t even seem to get rid of the guy. He starts cropping up everywhere - the grocery store, the gas station, it’s infuriating. It’s ridiculous, he - he has to  _stop,_ because Stiles can ignore the broad shoulders and the eyes and the thick fingers and thighs when he doesn’t have to  _see them._

 

 

After the third night of waking up sweat-soaked and rutting into his sheets, two fingers heavy on his tongue and Derek’s beta-blue eyes branded across his eyelids, he gives up pretending he doesn’t know what this is. Gives up saying he’s imagining someone else with arms like that and stubble like  _whoa_ and just closes his eyes, finishing himself off with Derek’s name a whimper on his lips.

 

 

He’d forgotten what this was like - hasn’t felt like this since he stopped wanting Lydia on his tongue and sprawled across his hips, and it’s unnerving, how he’s never thought of it before. The weeks go by and it just - it doesn’t  _stop,_ it wont stop, and it’s impossible. It’s over.  _Derek is ruining him,_ with the way he trails his fingers across his car while he waits for the gas to finish pumping, how he keeps his keys in his back pocket and they make a weird little shape beneath the denim, the way he  _smiles,_ now, when he sees Stiles around town. It’s like going away did something to him, something  _for_ him, and Cora unlocked it for Stiles.

 

 

It can’t last forever, of course. The isolation, of the Hales and of the McCall Pack (Stiles keeps referring to it as that in his head, even though Scott rolls his eyes when he says it out loud). Scott invites everyone over, and Stiles realizes,  _fucking hell, he’s going to have to_ talk  _to Derek._ It’s not a bright thought.

 

 

How do you talk to someone when you haven’t, but you’ve been hearing their voice in your dreams, when you’re coming so hard it hits your throat and then you think,  _Derek would like that, Derek would want it, want to lick it away,_ and it just gets you hotter. Stiles doesn’t know, he doesn’t  _know._

 

 

Stiles spends enough time getting ready that his dad asks if he’s going on a date. Immediately the image of Derek dressed up for a date flashes in his mind and he chokes on air, vigorously shaking his head and ducking out the door before his father can give him any  _more_ to think about when he’s been trying to do the opposite. Thinking is bad, for him, these days.

 

 

He lasts for most of the night, without anything being weird. Every time Derek talks to him, there’s enough people talking all at once that he can pretend he didn’t hear him, can look away and pay attention to someone else. He doesn’t pretend that Derek isn’t noticing - he knows he is, but he hopes Derek just doesn’t care enough to pay much attention. Stiles hardly spent any time thinking about Derek, before, because there was too much to think about otherwise, and Derek… Derek probably feels the same way about him.

 

 

It isn’t until the end of the night, when Stiles escapes to the kitchen and he’s leaning on the counter, a glass of water in his hand, hoping Derek didn’t notice the arousal leaking out of him like the worst sort of cologne, that Derek manages to corner him. He’s so surprised he drops the glass - Derek’s freaky werewolf reflexes allow him to catch it, and he sets it on the island behind Stiles, so close for a second that Stiles can feel his breath on his cheek. He shudders.

 

 

They just sort of stand there a moment, and Stiles can’t look at Derek but he can feel his  _eyes_ on him, like these little tiny lazers, seeping into his skin. “What?” he snaps out, finally, but his voice is hoarse, and he’s not fooling anyone - least of all Derek.

 

 

"You’re avoiding me." Stiles still can’t believe how different Derek is, now that he’s had some time away from Beacon Hills again. Can’t believe that Derek’s standing there, not yelling, not angry, just gentle, voice soft and a little light, but not questioning. He knows he’s saying something true.

 

 

Stiles looks up, and his hand’s at his mouth, because nail biting is a nervous habit, okay, and he’s  _nervous._ It’s like if Lydia ever cornered him about following her around in the halls - anxiety seeps in like he’s been rolling around in it. 

 

 

Derek takes his wrist, and his hands are gentle - it reminds Stiles of that night at the hospital, months ago, in the elevator, and Derek’s hands were the same on him then as they are now, but it feels so  _different,_ warmth seeping through his skin. His eyes are blown wide, but he can’t stop, can’t stop thinking about Derek’s  _hand,_ it’s  _on him,_ he’s been  _dreaming_ about this. 

 

 

His fingers are out of his mouth, now, and Derek’s not even close enough for it to be weird but it’s definitely, he’s making it  _weird,_ he can tell he is, and Derek’s face is unreadable. “So?” Stiles asks, trying really hard to remember what they’re talking about. It’s so hard to focus, Derek smells great, Stiles is going to dream about  _that_ for months, he’s sure.

 

 

And then… and then he smiles. Stiles is gone, Derek’s smiling, he’s dead. “You don’t have to,” he tells him, in that same weird-gentle-soft tone Stiles still can’t get used to, and then  _kisses_ him, like that’s normal. Like that isn’t going to make him go  _boneless._

 

 

"Oh?" Stiles squeaks when he pulls away.

 

 

Derek’s grinning. “Oh.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://beastiehales.tumblr.com). I have been told I am extremely friendly. This is probably accurate. Look, I apparently also take prompts.


End file.
